An Indian fakir can lie with his head on his back. Fakirs

For many centuries, European travelers brought back stories from India about the amazing tricks of local traveling magicians. And the first place among them, undoubtedly, was occupied by the number with the rope. The magician throws it into the air, it stretches vertically, and you can climb up it, like a pole. This trick is called the “Indian trick” or “Indian rope” - and its secret has not yet been fully solved.

Revived boy

In the evening, by the light of torches or lanterns, a fakir in a wide robe, muttering spells, takes out a thick rope from a wicker basket, bending and twisting it repeatedly. The audience sees that the rope is very ordinary. The magician throws it into the air several times - and at some point it becomes straight and hard, its lower end hangs several tens of centimeters from the ground.

The magician asks his boy assistant to climb the rope. He refuses, but in the end the magician manages to convince him. The boy climbs the rope until he disappears from the torch-lit space. After this, he is lost in the darkness of the Indian night and is no longer visible to the audience.

The fakir orders the young assistant to return, but receives no answer. The magician feigns anger, takes a huge knife and, clenching it in his teeth, climbs after the boy - until he also disappears into the darkness. The audience hears the magician's swearing and the boy's plaintive cries. Then pieces of the young assistant's body fall to the ground - including his turbaned head. The fakir descends to the ground alone, the blade clutched in his teeth is covered in blood.

The magician's other assistants collect the boy's body parts into a basket or bag. After this, the magician casts a spell - and the young assistant appears before the audience completely unharmed.

Buddha was the first

This trick echoes an ancient Indian legend. Once upon a time, Buddha wanted to show the people his amazing abilities, so that people would be convinced of his power and believe in his teachings. To do this, he rose into the air and cut his body into pieces, and then connected them and became himself again.

Such a miraculous repetition of the actions of the Buddha himself at all times spoke of the abilities of the fakir (translated from Arabic as “poor man,” usually a wandering monk) and allowed him to become an adviser to the ruler. The ancient Indian treatise “Arthashastra” (“Science of Politics”), compiled back in the 5th century BC, says that fakirs helping rulers received an annual salary of 1000 copper coins - the same as professional spies. The task of the magicians was to convince the people that the ruler communicated with the gods.

Another ancient Indian treatise describes a performance that a fakir gave for the son of the legendary queen Suruchi. First, the magician magically created a tree, then threw a ball of threads into the air so that the end of the thread caught on a branch. Climbing up the thread, the magician disappeared into the foliage of the tree. After some time, parts of his body fell to the ground, the magician’s assistants put them together - and the fakir came to life.

Maybe hypnosis?

In the scientific world, the “Indian rope” became known thanks to the famous Arab traveler and naturalist Ibn Battuta, who in the middle of the 14th century saw such a representation and described it in his treatise. True, other medieval scientists considered the hardened rope hanging in the air and the revival of a dismembered body not only a lie, but also blasphemy.

However, interest in the “Indian trick” has not diminished over the centuries. At the end of the 19th century, the secret of fakirs was explained by the then fashionable hypnosis.

It got to the point that the American newspaper Chicago Daily Tribune, which was experiencing difficulties with circulation, sent two correspondents to India - the writer S. Ellmore and the artist Lessing. They had to photograph and sketch the actions of the fakir while performing the “Indian trick” - and prove that mass hypnosis was taking place.

The Americans returned from a distant country with several sketches and photographs. In the photographs and drawings there was only a fakir surrounded by a crowd. There was no rope at all. Such photographs were supposed to prove that the whole trick was the result of collective suggestion.

But later it turned out that the works of Lessing and Ellmore were fakes. Americans didn't go to India at all. Moreover, journalists with such names were not listed in this newspaper. At the same time, it became clear why the newspaper cited Ellmore’s surname with an initial, but Lessing’s surname not. The owner of the newspaper apologized and explained that this was a joke designed to increase circulation. And the pseudonym S. Ellmore (English S. Ellmore, that is, sell more - “sell more”) was invented so that readers could guess about the hoax.

By the way, the version that the “Indian rope” trick is the result of mass hypnosis is still popular. In particular, this is stated by the famous English psychiatrist Alexander Canon in his book “Invisible Impact”. But opponents of this theory ask a natural question: why then is a rope needed? Why doesn't the magician convince the audience that he and his assistant are simply flying into the air? Moreover, Buddha once did exactly this.

£10,000 per show

There are numerous photographs showing a rope hanging from the sky and a boy or fakir climbing on it. The first such photograph was published by the English publishing house Strand in 1919 - with the caption that the photograph was taken by a certain Lieutenant F.V. Holmes near the Indian city of Pune.

The photo caused a mixed reaction in society. Many claimed that it was not a rope, but a long bamboo pole. A certain Colonel R. Elliott contacted the London “Circle of Magic” and promised a prize of 500 pounds sterling to anyone who would repeat the “Indian trick.” An advertisement about the generous offer was published in major newspapers in India, but no one responded to it.

A little later, the British illusionist and inventor John Maskelyne increased the reward to five thousand pounds, and the Viceroy (appointed ruler from England) of India, Lord Henry Lansdowne, to ten thousand pounds sterling. Alas, these calls were ignored by the fakirs. However, such authoritative figures as writers Rudyard Kipling, Maxim Gorky and Maurice Maeterlinck, as well as artist Nicholas Roerich, wrote about witnessing this miraculous phenomenon.

Has the trick been solved?

It was only in the mid-1930s that the American illusionist Horace Goldius unraveled the secret of the trick. To do this, he had to travel around India for eight years and communicate with pilgrims and fakirs!

First of all, magicians use an unusual rope. It is made of braid, inside of which there are small wooden blocks with rounded edges. A strong cord is threaded through these blocks - thus, if it is pulled and secured, the rope becomes “hardened”.

And, of course, it does not hover in the sky and rise on its own. First, the fakir's assistants pulled long, strong black cords over the place where the trick was demonstrated. That is why the trick was shown at dusk and by the light of lanterns or torches - then the black cords at the top were not noticeable. The rope was thrown into the air several times until a small hook at the end clung to a pre-tensioned cord, after which the magician's assistants pulled it tighter, and the rope rose as if by itself. Then the magician made the rope “hard” and forced the boy to climb up. The main task of the young (and light!) assistant was to secure the rope well on the cord.

The fakir himself climbed up in a robe, under which parts of the body of a large monkey were hidden. It was them that the magician threw down. And when he came down, there was a boy under the robe. What happened next was a matter of technique: the assistants collected parts of the supposed boy’s body, the magician shouted out spells - and the young assistant, safe and sound, appeared before the public.

The main thing is the fakir's magic

It would seem that the mystery has been solved. Many illusionists repeated the “Indian trick” (in particular, Emil Keogh did it in the USSR). The monkeys no longer suffered during its performance, since the artists used dummies of body parts.

And, despite this, some professional magicians and art researchers are still convinced that the “Indian rope” was by no means a deception of the audience and actually existed. In particular, this is stated by the famous Indian illusionist Pratul Chandra Sorkar, who collected a lot of evidence of the performance of this trick - including in an open space where it was impossible to pull the cords.

In the magazine of the International Brotherhood of Magicians Linking Ring in 1998, a publication appeared by Ed Morris, who was then the president of the largest computer company IBM. He talked about how, together with his wife, he saw a trick with an “Indian rope” - and the fakir demonstrated it on the beach, where it was not possible to pull the cord at the top. Anyone could touch the rope - there were no blocks in it. At the same time, the rope straightened and froze in the air, and the boy climbed up and down it.

The Indians themselves claim that the secret of the rope trick lies in the magic of the fakir and his ability to communicate with heavenly powers. The people who performed it at all times could be counted on one hand, and by the end of the 20th century the last of them died. And the real “Indian trick” was replaced by a circus act by Western illusionists.

It is curious that the tallest monument in the world (at the time of creation), erected in 1979 near the city of Hyskvarna (Sweden), is dedicated to this focus. The monument depicts a fakir throwing a rope upward, along which a boy is climbing. The height of the composition is 103 meters, the total weight is 300 tons.

The day after the dramatic tiger hunt, the Maharajah gave a reception in his palace in honor of the happy ending of the dangerous adventure. Our travelers were, of course, the most honored guests. In addition to them, General MacDonald and Colonel Barton received invitations. Usually cold and proud when meeting people of another nationality, the British today seem to have forgotten about their national arrogance. They loudly praised the courage and self-control of the Polish hunters, and Colonel Ralph Barton never left Wilmovsky's side, trying to engage him in conversation on various topics.

At first, Vilmovsky maintained polite decorum. He himself spoke little, willingly listening to the Englishman’s words. It soon seemed to him that the unexpected change in the behavior of the English, and indeed their entire conversation, pursued some specific goal. Therefore, Vilmovsky perked up and began to listen even more attentively.

“You’ll excuse me for reminding you of a sensitive matter, but I need to do this so that you don’t judge me harshly,” Barton said, leaning towards Vilmovsky. “This concerns the words that you uttered when I warned about the danger threatening your son from the princess’s cheetah.”

Vilmovsky glanced sideways at the Englishman and continued to listen to him.

— Human life in India is valued less than here in Europe. Members of the lower castes are nonentities in the eyes of the privileged aristocracy. If we tried to change the age-old customs that have developed here, we would quickly lose India. Believe me, Indians are still barbarians in many respects. The British took on a serious civilizing mission here.

Vilmovsky was silent, and only his ironic smile indicated that the Englishman’s arguments did not seem convincing to him. Barton noticed Vilmovsky’s smile, but continued to speak in a friendly tone:

— It is not easy to change anything in the customs of such a large and populous country. Despite this, it was the British who forbade Indian mothers from sacrificing their children to sacred crocodiles and abolished the cruel custom of “sati”, according to which widows, in the name of love for their deceased spouse, voluntarily went to be burned on a funeral pyre.

“I believe no one will object that this is the merit of the British,” Vilmovsky answered. “But, in my opinion, with the general development of civilization, many peoples themselves abandon too harsh customs and morals. Traveling across various continents, I became convinced that “doing good” to the natives against their wishes usually does not give them anything good.

“Of course, there may be different views on this question,” Barton said in a low voice. — I respect people with broad views. Indians themselves perceive our role in their country differently. The best example of this is the Maharaja of Alwar, his wife and her brother Pandit Davasarman. The Maharaja and Davasarman are supporters of the British, while the young princess is very hostile towards us.

- Really? — Vilmovsky was sincerely surprised.

“Alas, this is the sad truth,” Barton confirmed. “That’s why, in the presence of the British, the princess always shows more sympathy to guests of other nationalities.”

This message amused Vilmovsky, but he did not show it.

“Fortunately, the principality is ruled by the maharajah, and not his young wife,” he replied, carefully watching Barton’s expression.

“Unfortunately, the princess in no way resembles Indian women submissive to their husbands.” She received a good upbringing and managed to break free from the captivity of superstitions inherent in Indian women. Therefore, she is here with us on an equal footing. The jealous Maharajah is a weak-willed instrument in her hands. She is the one who controls Alvar!

When the Englishman uttered these words, an expression appeared on his face like that of a bird of prey hovering over a long-sought victim, but he quickly controlled himself and continued the conversation:

- Of course, this has absolutely no significance for our power in this country. The owners of individual principalities come and go, but we remain. Understanding this truth makes traveling around India much easier.

“Thank you for the kind information,” Vilmovsky answered ironically and dryly, understanding what Barton was getting at.

- Oh, I probably said something wrong?! Our confidential conversation does not concern you at all, as people who have English passports. In addition, Pandit Davasarman's society will allow you to travel freely not only in India. You can completely trust your guide. He is a wise and faithful man, excellently prepared to explore countries hitherto inaccessible to Europeans.

Vilmovsky was amazed. Was Barton really the “important person” whom Smuga approached for permission to travel to the border? Barton's ambiguous statements indicated that he knew perfectly well the purpose for which the Polish travelers came to India, while they themselves did not know it. Vilmovsky was overcome with anxiety. Is Smuga really involved in political intrigue? He decided to immediately clarify the question that was bothering him. He leaned over to Barton and asked:

- Mister Colonel, you said too much, or... too little! I want to know where my friend Smuga is now, why he called us here, and what does Pandit Davasarman, about whom everyone tells us so much, have to do with this?

- Wow, what a cunning master we are! “I had no idea that he had such beautiful dancers hiding in his jungle,” Barton said in a low voice, as if he had not heard Vilmovsky’s question. - Just look at the delight shining in your friend’s eyes! Even such a cold-blooded person as Mr. Tomek is also fascinated by them.

Vilmovsky did not resume the question. He realized that he would not receive an answer, and wondered why there was such a mysterious silence around Smuga’s call. At the same time, he involuntarily began to watch the dance of attractive bayaderas.

Three young girls, dressed in light muslin trousers and gilded bibs, danced to an old Indian tune with its restless oriental rhythm. The ringing of silver bells attached to wide bracelets on the dancers’ legs merged with the melodious sounds of the sarod tambourine, the whistling of flutes and the hum of drums. The slender silhouettes of the bayaderes cast flying shadows on the white marble walls of the hall, illuminated by the flickering shine of torches.

Vilmovsky did not easily succumb to moods. He looked at his son and the sailor. Boatswain Novitsky, every now and then casting glances at the bayadère, told the Maharajah and General MacDonald about one of his adventures, and they listened to him with great interest. Tomek entertained the lovely Rani with conversation. And she, as if wanting to annoy the British, smiled friendly, listening to the young Pole, and more and more often lowered the hem of the sari, hiding her face, and when the bayaders, having finished the dance, ran out of the hall, she gave Tomek a precious ring with a diamond as a souvenir of his stay in Alvar. Confused by such a valuable gift, Tomek refused to accept it.

“I want, young man, that this ring will always remind you of India.” If you refuse to accept him, I will decide that the friendly disposition of Rani Alvar is unpleasant for you,” said the princess.

Tomek blushed as he put the ring on his left little finger. He really couldn’t offend the princess with a refusal.

At that moment, when the princess handed Tomek the ring, Vilmovsky noticed a shadow of displeasure on Barton’s face and a significant look thrown by the colonel towards the thoughtful Maharajah. Vilmovsky began to fear that Tomek, who always and everywhere easily found friends, could this time cause them unnecessary difficulties in carrying out Smuga’s mysterious plans. Just at this time, the boatswain interrupted his story and reached for a cup of aromatic tea. Andrey Vilmovsky took the opportunity to start a general conversation.

— Back in Europe, I heard about those extraordinary miracles that Indian yogis and fakirs perform. And yet, despite the fact that I have been in the homeland of secrets and miracles for several days now, I only had the chance to see a fakir once in my life... and even then in England, where he demonstrated various tricks in the circus,” Vilmovsky said loudly, looking straight to my son, who was very interested in this topic.

Vilmovsky was not mistaken in his calculations. The boatswain was the first to forget about his cup of tea and exclaim loudly:

- Your truth! We were in the circus together then! This bearded magician quite calmly lay down with his bare back on a board strewn with sharp nails, ate knives, swallowed fire and cast a spell on snakes. Those were some pretty neat tricks!

“Dad, you probably forgot about the street snake charmer we met in Bombay.” We even argued whether his snake has poisonous teeth,” Tomek noted, interrupting the conversation he was having with the princess in a low voice.

“In my opinion, snake charmers are not magicians,” said Vilmovsky. “Therefore, I boldly say that we have not yet seen fakirs in India.”

“Yes, I would really like to see a real fakir,” Tomek said excitedly.

Maharaja Manibhadra smiled and, taking a short pipe filled with tobacco from the servant’s hands, said:

- I will try to satisfy your curiosity. However, let Colonel Barton first explain to you the true meaning of the words: fakir and yoga. During his long stay in India, the colonel was interested not only in the political affairs of our country, but also in the mysterious teachings of our holy men and the curious techniques of Indian magicians. I even believe that he has already become an excellent expert on these issues.

The Englishman frowned, as he felt a shadow of mockery in the words of the Maharaja, but, despite this, he freely answered:

“I will gladly do this, since many Europeans misinterpret the meaning of these words.” "Fakir" is an Arabic word that refers to a Muslim mendicant monk who has taken a vow of poverty. As for yoga, in India this is the name of people who study the mysterious forces of nature and use for this purpose, in accordance with Indian philosophy, a special system of yoga exercises in order to fully control their own spirit and body.

- Please explain to me what the yoga system is? - Tomek asked curiously.

“To become a yogi, you must renounce all property, leave your family and settle in the desert away from human settlements. Yoga's chosen guru, or teacher, gives instructions on what body positions to adopt, movements to make, and sacred sayings to learn by heart. After the future yogi has mastered the basics of this knowledge, he goes through the science of proper breathing and thinking. If he successfully completes the entire cycle of difficult exercises, he is prescribed repentance. Going through repentance is not that easy. A penitent yogi takes a vow of long-term silence, or undertakes to sit in the sun near burning fires, or to remain in the water for a long time, sticking only his head out of it. Sometimes a yogi must keep one or both arms extended upward for hours at a time. In addition, he is obliged to make several pilgrimages to holy places.

After the yogi successfully completes this novitiate, he becomes a shanniasi, i.e. candidate for sainthood. Now all that remains is to perform the symbolic rite of one’s own burial, signifying the mortification of the flesh and the birth of yoga for spiritual life. This ceremony transforms a shannyasi into a holy man; by improving further, he can reach the highest degree of initiation and become a paramahamsa.

Between the Muslim mendicant monk, the dervish and the Indian yogi, who after novitiate takes the name shannyasi, there is one thing in common, namely, the vow of poverty.

But they have nothing in common with those fakirs-magicians who, to earn money, perform deft tricks that sometimes seem absolutely miraculous to us.

“Indeed, you explained this to us very clearly,” said the boatswain. “But since we don’t understand anything about either the Arab or Indian religions, then we are more interested in fakirs-magicians.” Curious if there are any more of these in India?

- But of course there is, and, like snake charmers, they are united in an independent community. I think that His Highness the Maharajah of Alwar has prepared some kind of surprise for us. Perhaps we will see a real Indian fakir.

Before Colonel Barton could finish his last sentence, Maharajah Manibhadra clapped his hands four times. An old, hunched Indian man immediately appeared in front of the guests with a flat, closed basket in his hands. The poorly dressed old man wore a turban on his head, decorated with three peacock feathers - the distinctive sign of snake charmers. The old man stopped in front of the Maharaja, placed his basket on the ground, and, folding his hands on his chest in a ritual greeting, bowed low to the Lord of Alwar.

Manibhadra nodded his head slightly. With a wave of his hand he allowed the caster to begin the performance.

The old man placed a flat basket in the center of the hall and opened the lid. At the bottom of the basket lay, curled up into a ball, a yellowish-gray snake with a bluish tint. The caster sat down next to the basket, tucked his legs under him in an oriental manner, pulled out from the bosom of his robe an instrument that looked like a clarinet, and began to play a slow, dreary, monotonous melody.

After a few moments, the snake raised its head and began to straighten its shiny body. It seemed as if the snake was sitting on its tail, curled into a ring.

“Nala-pamba, a spectacled snake, is perhaps more than one and a half meters long,” Barton whispered to the Polish hunters, who looked with interest at the extraordinary spectacle.

“A magnificent specimen of a cobra,” Vilmovsky also said in a whisper.

At first the snake did not want to leave the basket. Then she began to show concern. Her movements became faster. She unfolded the head shield, which revealed a pattern strikingly similar to glasses. Three transverse black stripes were visible on the front of the snake’s belly. The irritated reptile hissed loudly and quickly moved its tongue sticking out of its mouth. The caster did not stop playing his instrument for a second. The cobra rushed towards him several times, as if trying to bite him, but the caster stubbornly looked at it, without retreating a single step.

The monotonous melody flowed non-stop. The snake slowly began to fall into some kind of trance. The cobra's eyes, which just a minute ago had burned with rage and hatred, were now motionless, as if she were in a tetanus.

The snake charmer, without ceasing to play, slowly moved closer to the cobra. For a moment he touched his nose and then his tongue to the head of the snake. As if waking up from a lethargic sleep, the cobra furiously rushed at its tamer, but he managed to jump away from it. The cobra calmed down and the caster closed the basket.

- Oh, damn you! If the snake’s poisonous teeth were not pulled out, then this man risked his life,” Vilmovsky exclaimed incredulously.

“If the spellcaster had not risked his life, his art would not have been worth one rupee,” said the Maharaja, looking around at his white guests with a mocking glance. “However, it’s easy to check whether this cobra has poisonous teeth.” Perhaps some of you would like to check it out in person?

“It was only Thomas the Infidel who wanted to check everything personally,” the boatswain answered freely. “In my opinion, the charmer is not such a fool as to kiss a poisonous snake.”

The Maharajah clapped his hands again. A servant ran into the hall, carrying two chickens in a basket.

“Checking whether a Nala Pamba has poisonous teeth is not a pleasant sight, but maybe you want to make sure whether these chickens are alive?” - the Maharaja asked the boatswain cheerfully.

“Wow, I even understand something about this, because before becoming a boatswain, I served as a cook on an old galosh that went to Yokohama,” answered the boatswain.

He quickly approached the attendant and, having carefully examined the birds, said:

- They are as healthy as fish, although not very well-fed. What's next?

- Absolutely nothing, sahib. The snake charmer will do the rest,” explained the Maharajah.

The old charmer took one chicken and approached the basket with the cobra. As soon as he opened the lid, the snake immediately raised its head. She tilted it and unraveled the shield, on which dirty white glasses again flashed, surrounded by a black outline. The snake's eyes glowed with fury. Cobra saw an Indian holding a chicken. The caster, not paying attention to the fury of the angry reptile, handed the chicken to the snake. The cobra looked at him for a few moments, then with a sudden movement it rushed forward, its mouth wide open. One could see how the poisonous teeth on her upper jaw straightened, which, when the mouth was closed, folded like the tip of a penknife.

Tomek shouted a warning. He knew that when a snake opens its mouth and its poisonous teeth rise, poison appears in them from the gland pressed by the muscles. If this poison, similar in chemical composition to cadaveric poison, enters the blood of a person or animal, rapid decomposition of blood cells and no less rapid death occurs.

No one paid attention to Tomek’s cry, because the cobra, like lightning, moved forward and sank its teeth into the bird’s body. The chicken in the hands of the caster began to tremble. The cobra's attack was instant. The caster was already retreating from the basket with the angry snake. He threw away the chicken that had been bitten by the cobra, and substituted the second one for the snake.

While the chickens were fighting on the floor, wings outstretched, the cobra, hissing loudly, glared at the human faces with a cold gaze. So minute after minute passed. The chickens fluttered their wings, and the cobra, looking around, hissed loudly.

The Indians, in whose religious beliefs the cobra plays a significant role, looked at the reptile with pious awe and fear. The teachings of the Brahmins instilled in them faith in the miraculous power of snake charmers.

In contrast to the Indians, white trappers and the British had a different attitude towards the interesting spectacle.

- Do you think this cobra is really poisonous? - General MacDonald addressed Vilmovsky in a low voice.

- I think yes! However, we will soon be convinced of this,” Vilmovsky answered. — The death of the chickens will dispel doubts.

- Your truth, but why didn’t the cobra rush at this sly guy with a pipe? - the boatswain asked in a whisper. “If the chickens die, then I will believe that the charmer knows how to get along with snakes.” Or is evil spirits involved in this?

“Don’t talk nonsense, boatswain,” said Vilmovsky, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course, it cannot be said that charmers do not arouse universal admiration for their ability to handle poisonous snakes. And yet they do not have supernatural power. They only know how to properly handle snakes and know their character very well. The caster approaches the snake only when it calms down. Besides, I've heard that many spellcasters die from being bitten by their pets.

- Look, look! The chickens are dying! - Tomek exclaimed.

Indeed, the first chicken fell to the floor. He jerked his legs several times and remained motionless. A few minutes later the second one died. This was the best proof that the cobra could take the life of a snake charmer at any moment. Admired by his courage, the Europeans gave the spellcaster several rupees as a reward.

Soon the caster and his deadly cargo left. The Maharajah clapped his hands again. Six attendants brought in a large copper stretcher filled with smoldering charcoal. Behind them appeared a hunched, thin old man with a long, gray beard. The old man sat down next to the tray, tucking his legs under him. He crossed his arms over his chest and fell into thought. His eyes under his shaggy eyebrows did not express any interest in the white gentlemen who stood at a distance and talked in low voices.

— The Sahibs wanted to see a real Indian fakir. Here is one of the best fakirs in India. “Perhaps he will entertain you with his art,” said the Maharajah, with difficulty suppressing a sly grin in which one felt confident that he was presenting the white guests with an excellent surprise.

“Looks like the fakir will fry the chickens killed by the spectacled snake,” the boatswain whispered.

- Well, what are you talking about! - Tomek was indignant. - So you laughed at the snake charmer, but in the experiment with chickens you were convinced whose truth was.

“Listen, brother, a poisonous cobra is not a bowl of smoldering coals,” the sailor snapped. - But you're right, don't say anything until you jump! Perhaps this magician will swallow hot coals?

The friends interrupted their quiet conversation, as the fakir shuddered, as if awakening from a deep sleep. Only now did he pay attention to the guests gathered in the hall. He looked over their faces with a searching gaze, not missing anyone. He barely deigned to glance at the Indian servants, looked a little longer at the Maharaja, then began to peer intently into the faces of the white sahibs. He didn’t look at Tomek and the boatswain for too long, but for a long time he fixed his gaze on Vilmovsky. Then the British became the subject of his interest, and finally he devoted a few moments to the beautiful Rani.

The fakir's unusual behavior forced everyone to fall silent and concentrate. A mysterious, exciting silence reigned in the hall. Suddenly the fakir said:

“Perhaps one of the noble sahibs would like to personally check whether the coals on the tray really burn and burn?”

But, remembering the experience with the poisonous cobra, no one was in a hurry to express their doubts. The fakir looked from one white guest to another. After a long silence, the old Indian looked into Tomek’s eyes and said in a commanding tone:

- Come to me, noble young sahib!

Tomek hesitated for a minute, but then walked up to the fakir, got down on one knee and extended his hand to the tray. The heat emanating from the coals forced him to withdraw his hand.

“Since you are convinced, sahib, that this is real fire, I ask you to stand next to me and watch carefully,” said the fakir.

In a quiet voice, the fakir began to hum some strange tune. The voice, weak at first, gradually gained strength, and in the end the whole hall was filled with a melody saturated with genuine fanaticism. The strange song disturbed the listeners and forced them to focus on the modest figure of the fakir, whose gaze wandered somewhere over the heads of the listeners. An expression of delight appeared on the faces of the Indians. Either under the influence of the words of the song that the fakir sang in a language unknown to Tomek, or at his silent sign, some of the Indian servants began, one after another, to approach the tray filled with hot coals. Listening to the melody of the fakir's wild song, their bare feet slowly walked straight across the hot coals. And there were no signs of pain on their faces.

Tomek, to some extent, also succumbed to the influence of the amazing melody and was impressed by the whole scene, but at the same time he was thinking intensely about what the trick of the Indian fakir was. In the end, the young man’s inherent curiosity prevailed over reason. Tomek looked at his companions. But no one paid attention to him. Everyone looked intently at the faces of the Indians walking across the coals. Tomek immediately took off his shoes and socks. He approached the magic tray. This happened just at the moment when the fakir stopped singing. As soon as Tomek touched the coals with his foot, he immediately pulled back, hissing in pain.

The alarmed Maharaja exclaimed:

“You can’t do that, sahib, fire doesn’t burn only when the fakir sings.” Perhaps call a doctor?

- Oh, no, no, nonsense! - Tomek almost shouted, ashamed of his thoughtless action.

- This is interesting! “I have never seen anything like this, although I have attended fakir performances more than once,” said Colonel Barton.

- Excellent work. Apparently, we all succumbed to group hypnosis,” Vilmovsky said.

“So you, Andrey, think that this fakir put us to sleep?” - the boatswain asked in surprise. - This is completely impossible! Once the same magician tried to put me to sleep, but nothing came of it. He almost fell asleep himself. While he was singing, I pinched myself, excuse the expression, in a certain place, and made sure that I was not dreaming.

- Excessive curiosity can sometimes also be harmful. After all, there are things in the world that even philosophers have never dreamed of,” concluded the Maharajah.

The old fakir with his flaming tray had long since left the hall when Tomek approached the princess and began to have an animated conversation with her in a low voice. Vilmovsky noticed this. He approached his son and asked:

- Well, Tomek, are you thinking about bandaging your leg?

- No need, dad. “It doesn’t hurt at all,” Tomek replied.

— If the burn is left in the shoe, infection may occur. Remember the climate we are in. I advise you to go home and bandage your leg.

Tomek smiled incredulously. After all, the boatswain was wounded in the arm a few days ago, and the wound quickly healed. He wanted to object, but, looking at his father, he refrained. Vilmovsky gave him a sign with his eyes.

- You are right, as always, dad. It’s better not to risk it... I’ll go home and bandage it,” Tomek answered.

“We can call a doctor here,” said the Maharajah, finding himself next to the white guests.

- Why bother the other guests? Tomek will be able to do everything himself perfectly well,” Vilmovsky resolutely objected.

- But I hope that you will return to us soon? - asked the Maharajah.

“After the bandage, it would be better for my son to lie down and rest a little,” said Vilmovsky, anticipating Tomek’s answer.

“Of course, dad, I will do as you advise,” Tomek answered.

He apologized for the involuntary confusion caused by his action and left. The face of the beautiful princess reflected such undisguised disappointment that Vilmovsky was sincerely happy about his son’s departure.

Indians burn the bodies of their dead in bonfires. The custom of sati was banned by the British Governor of India in 1829.

Bayaderas are court singers and at the same time dancers who take part in religious ceremonies in Indian temples.

Sarod-tambourine is a type of harmony, a national Indian musical instrument.

Spectacled snake (Naja naja) - same as cobra.

Yokohama (Japanese for low-coast country) is a city and commercial seaport in the northeastern region of the island of Honshu in Japan.

Hypnosis is an unconscious state similar to sleep. A person under hypnosis follows all the orders of the hypnotist.

Tomek blushed as he put the ring on his left little finger. He really couldn’t offend the princess with a refusal.

– Back in Europe, I heard about those extraordinary miracles that Indian yogis and fakirs perform. And yet, despite the fact that I have been in the homeland of secrets and miracles for several days, I only had the chance to see a fakir once in my life... and even then in England, where he demonstrated various tricks in the circus,” Vilmovsky said loudly, looking straight at his son, who was quite interested in the topic.

Vilmovsky was not mistaken in his calculations. The boatswain was the first to forget about his cup of tea and exclaim loudly:

– Your truth! We were in the circus together then! This bearded magician quite calmly lay down with his bare back on a board strewn with sharp nails, ate knives, swallowed fire and cast a spell on snakes. Those were some pretty neat tricks!

“Dad, you probably forgot about the street snake charmer we met in Bombay.” “We even argued whether his snake has poisonous teeth,” Tomek noted, interrupting the conversation he was having with the princess in a low voice.

“In my opinion, snake charmers are not magicians,” said Vilmovsky. “Therefore, I boldly say that we have not yet seen fakirs in India.”

“Yes, I would really like to see a real fakir,” Tomek said excitedly.

Maharaja Manibhadra smiled and, taking a short pipe filled with tobacco from the servant’s hands, said:

– I will try to satisfy your curiosity. However, let Colonel Barton first explain to you the true meaning of the words: fakir and yoga. During his long stay in India, the colonel was interested not only in the political affairs of our country, but also in the mysterious teachings of our holy men and the curious techniques of Indian magicians. I even believe that he has already become an excellent expert on these issues.

The Englishman frowned, as he felt a shadow of mockery in the words of the Maharaja, but, despite this, he freely answered:

– I will gladly do this, since many Europeans misinterpret the meaning of these words. "Fakir" is an Arabic word that refers to a Muslim mendicant monk who has taken a vow of poverty. As for yoga, in India this is the name of people who study the mysterious forces of nature and use for this purpose, in accordance with Indian philosophy, a special system of yoga exercises in order to fully control their own spirit and body.

– Please explain to me what the yoga system is? – Tomek asked curiously.

– To become a yogi, you must renounce all property, leave your family and settle in the desert away from human settlements. Yoga's chosen guru, or teacher, gives instructions on what body positions to adopt, movements to make, and sacred sayings to learn by heart. After the future yogi has mastered the basics of this knowledge, he goes through the science of proper breathing and thinking. If he successfully completes the entire cycle of difficult exercises, he is prescribed repentance. Going through repentance is not that easy. A penitent yogi takes a vow of long-term silence, or undertakes to sit in the sun near burning fires, or to remain in the water for a long time, sticking only his head out of it. Sometimes a yogi must keep one or both arms extended upward for hours at a time. In addition, he is obliged to make several pilgrimages to holy places.

Between the Muslim mendicant monk, the dervish and the Indian yogi who, after novitiate, takes the name shannyasi, there is one thing in common, namely, the vow of poverty.

But they have nothing in common with those fakirs-magicians who, to earn money, perform deft tricks that sometimes seem absolutely miraculous to us.

“Indeed, you explained this to us very clearly,” said the boatswain. “But since we don’t understand anything about either the Arab or Indian religions, we are more interested in fakirs-magicians.” Curious if there are any more of these in India?

Manibhadra nodded his head slightly. With a wave of his hand he allowed the caster to begin the performance.

After a few moments, the snake raised its head and began to straighten its shiny body. It seemed as if the snake was sitting on its tail, curled into a ring.

“Nala-pamba, a spectacled snake, is perhaps more than one and a half meters long,” Barton whispered to the Polish hunters, who looked with interest at the extraordinary spectacle.

“A magnificent specimen of a cobra,” Vilmovsky also said in a whisper.

- Oh, damn you! If the snake’s poisonous teeth were not pulled out, then this man risked his life,” Vilmovsky exclaimed incredulously.

“If the caster had not risked his life, his art would not have been worth one rupee,” said the Maharajah, looking around at his white guests with a mocking glance. “However, it’s easy to check whether this cobra has poisonous teeth.” Perhaps some of you would like to check it out in person?

Fred S. Ellmore, a young native of Chicago, clearly demonstrated the correctness of his theory while in the Indian city of Gaya: mango trees, children, and other objects allegedly created by the fakir in front of the audience, as shown as a result of the cunning plan carried out, are just a figment of the imagination!

“Almost every traveler returning from India brings with him more or less amazing stories about the performances of Indian fakirs or magicians. Anyone who has ever heard one of these stories would be curious to know the explanation of the mystery. Various kinds of theories have been proposed, all of them more or less unsatisfactory. The young Chicago resident had no choice but to find an explanation himself that really dotted the i's and provide what would be decisive proof of the correctness of his idea. His discovery has a chance of attracting the attention of people in all parts of the world, and he may become as widely known as the discoverer of electricity."

Yes, he could, without a doubt, achieve this, if you do not pay attention to two trivial facts: ( A) if what he discovered had not been known to Eastern occultists for many centuries as GUPTA MAYA, or "secret illusion"; And ( b) if there had not been a Theosophical Society for about forty years, which told the story of "Ellmore" to everyone gobi-mouchi inclined to believe in mysterious and supernatural the character of the so-called Indian "magicians". Already over ten years ago, all such phenomena - and even more amazing and phenomenal, since they are completely scientific and explainable by natural causes - were repeatedly characterized by the author of this article in Simla as a "psychological trick", to the deep disappointment of her overly enthusiastic friends. What are these really? psychological tricks, and what is the difference between them and "simple tricks" will be explained below. Now let's get back to the post in " Tribune" After giving some private details about Mr. Frederick S. Ellmore, describing his childhood, his college years and the color of his hair, and giving the address of his family's residence, the interviewer shows him, along with his friend and classmate, Mr. Georg Lessing - one of them is an “enthusiast photographer”, the other is a skilled artist - in the land of the Holy Cow and the cunning fakirs.

"Telling a Correspondent" Tribune" Of his wonderful experience in India, Mr. Ellmore said: "We found Western India quite charming, and spent some time in Calcutta. From there we headed north, stopping briefly at Rajmahal and Dinapur. From the last city we went south to Gaya, which we reached by the end of July. Lessing and I often talked about the Indian fakirs and their amazing performances, and we decided to make a thorough study of their powers. We were constantly on alert, waiting for first-class magicians. One afternoon, as I was about to take a nap, Lessing burst into the room and told me that there was a fakir in front of the house, ready to begin his performance. I was just as happy as he was. None of us had had the opportunity to see any of these people until now, but we developed a little plan, which we put into action when the opportunity presented itself. I theorized that the explanation for all the supernatural tricks attributed to them could be found in hypnotism, but I still did not know how they did it until Lessing proposed such a plan to test my theory. While the fakir was performing his tricks, Lessing would have made a quick pencil sketch of what he saw, and at the same moment I would have taken a snapshot with my Kodak.

Having prepared to put our plan into execution, we left our dwelling and found the fakir, a crowd of his compatriots and one or two Europeans. The fakir turned out to be an eccentric-looking old man. His hair was long and matted, and his beard hung low on his chest. His only jewelry was a copper ring or bracelet worn on his right hand between the wrist and elbow. His eyes were remarkable for their brilliance and their intense depth, so to speak. They were completely black and seemed to sit unusually deep on his face. As we formed a small circle around him, his eyes took in us from head to toe. He spread on the ground a rough carpet of strange fabric, about four feet wide and six feet long. To his right was a small clay bowl, and on his lap lay a strange-looking musical instrument.

Having received the signal that everything was ready, he took the bowl in his hands and poured the contents - a reddish, sand-like mixture - onto the carpet. He stirred it with his fingers, apparently to show that it contained no hidden objects. Having poured sand again into the bowl, he placed it in the center of the carpet, at a distance of several feet from his knees, and covered it with a small scarf, after adding a few mango seeds to the mixture. Then he played a mysterious melody on his pipe, swaying back and forth, and, as he did this, leisurely peered at each of the crowd of observers with his amazing eyes. The rocking and playing of the pipe lasted two or three minutes. Then he suddenly stopped and lifted one of the edges of the scarf. We saw several green shoots two or three inches high. He lowered the handkerchief, played his pipe a little more, and I could have sworn that I saw the handkerchief raised three feet in the air. He stopped again and removed the handkerchief. At this time there was a real tree there, two feet or more in height, with long thin flat leaves. Lessing easily nudged me, and I took my photograph, and he also drew a sketch. While we were observing the creation of the strange old man, it seemed to disappear from our eyes. When this happened, he moved the bowl and spread the carpet in front of him. This was followed by more music and rocking, more looking at the ground, and as we followed the dirty rectangle of cloth he laid on the ground, we saw the outline of a moving object underneath it. As we watched this, he grabbed the handkerchief by two corners and yanked it off the ground. In the place where he had been a moment before, sat the strangest pockmarked Indian child I had ever seen during my journey. Lessing's nerves were in better condition than mine. I would have forgotten what I was supposed to do if he hadn't reminded me of it. I took a photo, and he took his drawing. The child remained only a moment, after which the fakir again covered him with a scarf, and, pulling out a knife, struck at the place where the child was sitting. The next moment he tore off the scarf, under which there was nothing.

We barely had time to recover from our amazement when the fakir pulled out a ball of gray rope from under his knees. Holding the free end between his teeth, he threw the ball into the air with a sharp upward movement. Instead of returning to him, the ball rose and rose until it disappeared from our sight, and only the long swinging end of the rope remained. When we lowered our eyes after trying to see the ball, we were all amazed to see a boy of about six years old standing near the fakir. He was not there when the ball was thrown into the air, but he was there now, and at the fakir's command he walked around the rope and began to climb it, in some way imitating a monkey climbing a vine. As he began to rise, I pointed the camera at him and took a photograph, and at the same time Lessing made a sketch. The boy disappeared when he reached a height of thirty or forty feet above the ground, at least we could not see him. A moment later the rope disappeared. Then the fakir stood up, rolled up his carpet, took the cup and, going around the crowd, began to ask for a reward.

I had no facilities for developing photographic films, and Lessing took them with him for development, along with a thousand or more other negatives. I received the images of the fakir, along with some others, immediately after lunch. After the fakir left, Lessing completed his sketches and left them with me. You will see by comparing Lessing's drawings with photographs that in neither case did the camera record any surprising features of the performance. For example, Lessing's sketch shows a tree growing out of a bush, while the camera does not reveal any bush there. Lessing, as well as myself, saw the boy, and he was included in his sketch, although the camera shows the absence of the boy. Lessing's drawing of a boy climbing a rope is proof that he saw it, but the camera says there was no boy and no rope. So I was forced to believe that my theory was absolutely correct - that the fakir simply hypnotized the entire crowd, but could not hypnotize the camera. I am going to write a story about this, make copies of the drawings and send them to the London Society for Psychical Research. I have no doubt they will put it to good use.”

We also do not have any doubts about this. "ABOUT. P.I. will of course put Mr. Lessing's sketches and Mr. Ellmore's photographs to good use, as he did with hundreds of his sessions with spiritualistic mediums, and with the evidence presented by the Theosophists: unable to connect these things with his favorite “telepathic influence”, it will brand as a whole all the above numerous and well-known phenomena as magic, sleight of hand and tricks à la Maskelyne and Cook. For this is usually the only explanation given by the “learned” Society for everything that its members do not understand and are unable to understand.

We gladly congratulate Mr. Ellmore and Mr. Lessing and must say a few words on this subject for their future benefit and well-being.

First of all, we ask them why they call a “magician” a “fakir”? If he is one of them, then he cannot be the other; for a fakir is simply Muslim fanatic, who spends all his time in pious activities, such as standing for days on one leg or on the top of his head, and does not pay attention to any other phenomena. He also cannot be a yogi, for the latter’s name is incompatible with “gathering crowds” to demonstrate his psychic powers. The man they saw in Gaya was simply - what would be more correct to call him - a public magician, or, as he is usually called in India, Yaduwalla(sorcerer) and "creator" illusions, be he a Hindu or a Muslim. Like a true magician, that is, one who tells us that he will show us supernatural phenomena, or siddhi yogis, he has the same right to use witchcraft tricks as, for example, Hoffmann, or Maskelyne and Cook. Well, we invite the last gentlemen and all the “wizards of the North” to repeat, if they can, even such magic phenomena, as above, dressed, or rather undressed, like magicians, and under the dome of the sky, and not under the roof or ceiling of a hall or theater. They will never be able to do this. And why? Yes, because such “magicians” are not those who use “sleight of hand”. They are qualified and genuine psychologists, mesmerizers, endowed with the most phenomenal powers, which are hitherto unknown and scarcely practiced in Europe, except in some exceptional cases. And regarding this point, we ask, basing our questions on the logic of analogies: If the existence of such phenomenal powers of "enchantment", such as the spread of a spell over an audience often of several hundred or even thousands of people, has been proven at least once in simple professional magicians, then who can deny the same forces, only twenty times more powerful, in trained adepts of the occult? This will be a tough nut to crack for the Society for Psychical Research if it ever accepts Mr. Ellmore's testimony, which we doubt. But if it is accepted, then what right will the members of this Society or the public have to doubt the statements made in the name of great yogis and learned adepts and "mahatmas" who create many times more amazing phenomena? The only fact, truly, is that all those assembled see a rope in the air, the end of which seems to be fixed in the clouds, a boy climbing it, a child under a basket, and a growing mango tree, when in fact there is neither rope nor boy, not a mango tree - all this can give us the right to call it the greatest possible mental miracle; some kind of “psychological trick“- this is almost true, but no physical phenomenon, no matter how amazing one may be, will ever be able to compete with it, or even come close to it. " Just everything“hypnotism,” you say. But those who say this do not know the difference between hypnotism, which at best is only purely physiological manifestation even in the hands of the most powerful and trained experimenter, and true mesmerism, not to mention mahamaye or even Gupta Maye in ancient and modern India. We challenge one and all, from Charcot and Richet to all second-rate hypnotists, including the greatest physical mediums, to create what Mr. Ellmore and Mr. Lessing ascribe to their “magician.”

For those who are unable to understand the full importance of such psycho-spiritual force in man, which " Tribune" so ignorantly and stupidly calls "hypnotism", everything we can say will be useless. We simply refuse to answer them. But to others who understand us, we will say: Yes; This magic, charm, psychology, call it what you want, but this is not “hypnotism.” The latter is a kind of clouding of the mind created by some people acting on other people through touch, or by gazing at a strongly illuminated spot, or by some other manipulation; but what is this compared to the collective and simultaneous charm hundreds of people with one fleeting glance of a “magician” ( Vide supra[cm. above]), even if this look “encompasses every person” “from head to toe.” No Theosophist who knows anything about occultism has ever explained such phenomena in any other way than magic spells And charm; and to attribute anything else to them is tantamount to teaching supernatural and miraculous, that is, what is impossible in nature. There are many Theosophists in England alone who could testify any day that they have been taught for many years before the present day that such physical phenomena in India are the result of the charm and psychological powers of those who perform them. And yet no one in the Theosophical Society has ever claimed to have discovered and explained the mystery of the mango tree, since this teaching has been known for many centuries, and is now taught to everyone, who wants to know.

However, as stated at the outset, we owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Ellmore and his friend for their successful idea of using a photographic test to investigate such a trick, since no magic (or, as the reporter states, Ellmore, " hypnotism") cannot affect the camera. Moreover, it seems that both young travelers and the reporter " Tribune"worked specifically for the Theosophical Society. Indeed, it can be confidently predicted that no one, including the Society for Psychical Research, will pay more attention to Mr. Ellmore's "discovery" - since the latter, despite the erroneous name of hypnotism, is only a fact and truth. Thus the Theosophical Society alone will be grateful for a further confirmation of its teachings by independent and irrefutable proof.

Indian miracle rope(or rope) is a spell trick that has captivated the imagination and generated countless speculations for centuries. Some argue that this is just a myth or an illusion that occurs under the influence of hypnosis.

For centuries, European travelers brought back stories from India about the incredible tricks performed by traveling Indian magicians. But the performances with the famous miracle rope were more impressive than others.

Such stories gave rise to many rumors and assumptions, including the version that this was just a myth, because it was not possible to find a person who saw the amazing trick with his own eyes. One thing is certain: the Indian miracle rope caused more heated discussions than any other type of spell. Did this really happen? If yes, how was it done?

Perhaps part of the answer is hidden in the special training of those who show an unusual number. Many Indian magicians (or "fakirs", which means "beggar" in Arabic) are capable of performing truly remarkable feats - such as controlling their nervous system through willpower, which is achieved by constant exercise according to yogic techniques.

In addition, fakirs are fluent in the artistic arts, the gift of instilling illusions and performing tricks with spells. In the West, many numbers in their repertoire are classified as “mass hallucinations” or “mass hypnosis.” Moreover, they say that there is not a single person who himself witnessed the trick or personally knew one.

Seemingly doomed to extinction, the Indian miracle rope will be remembered - if remembered at all - as a mass illusion or a colorful myth. And if someone disagrees with this, they can be forgiven, since this mystery has a very long and sensational history.

It is unlikely that the West would have heard about the miracle rope and at least one person would have taken these stories seriously if not for the notes of the great Moroccan naturalist and writer of the Middle Ages Ibn Battuta. In 1360, among other distinguished guests, he received an invitation from Akbakh Khan to dinner at the royal palace in Han Chu in China. After a hearty meal, Akbakh Khan invited the satiated guests to follow him to the garden, where everything was prepared for the start of the amazing entertainment. Here is what Ibn Battuta wrote about this in his diary:

“After the feast, one of the artists took a wooden ball that had several holes in it. He threaded a rope through them. Then he threw the ball up in such a way that it disappeared from view and remained there, although there was no visible support.

When only a small end of the rope remained in his hand, the artist ordered one of the assistant boys to grab onto the rope and climb up it, which he did. He climbed higher and higher until he too disappeared from view. The artist called him three times, but there was no answer. Angry, he took a knife, grabbed the rope and also disappeared into the heights.

The artist then descended to the ground, bringing with him the hand of his assistant, who was the first to ascend the rope; then he brought a leg, a second arm, a second leg, a torso and finally a head. The assistant, of course, died. The clothes of the artist and the boy were covered in blood.

The fakir placed the bloody body parts on the floor one next to the other in their original order. Then he stood up and lightly kicked the pieced body, which again turned out to be a child - completely normal, whole and unharmed.”

Since there is no rational explanation for such extremely unusual phenomena as levitating ropes and miraculous resurrections, subsequent generations considered the reports of Ibn Battuta and the like to be idle talk or hype designed to extract a few coins from the most gullible. Medieval scholars declared the rope trick a lie. In the 19th century it was explained in terms of the exciting new science of hypnosis.

The enterprising American newspaper Chicago Daily Tribune, which was experiencing difficulties with circulation in the 1890s, announced its entry into the discussion and sending its journalists - the writer S. Ellmore and the artist Lessing - to distant India on a bold mission. They were tasked with taking photographs, making sketches and sketches, and ultimately proving that the trick was just a trick.

Although the Indian miracle rope act was known to be performed very rarely, the Americans soon returned to Chicago with several sketches and photographs that seemed to deal a crushing blow to the stunt's fame, proving that it was, as expected, a "mass hallucination." " When the film was developed, the picture showed only a Hindu man in baggy pants, surrounded by a hypnotized crowd.

There was no hardened rope that could be used to climb up. Naturally, the conclusion suggested itself that what was “seen” was the fruit of a collective suggestion. The newspaper published the story, and it became clear that the efforts of the Tribune's astute journalists had resulted in a triumphant revelation.

Several months passed, and light was shed on another "daring trick" - the Chicago Tribune's luck had turned. Lessing-Ellmore's works were exposed as fakes, which they turned out to be. Lessing had never set foot on Asian soil, much less witnessed the much-maligned Indian rope trick.

Moreover, a journalist named “S. Ellmore" did not exist at all. Yielding to pressure, the publisher himself issued a refutation, declaring the act a joke played out in order to increase demand for the newspaper.

Thirty years later, the newspapers were again full of articles about the miracle rope, as a certain Colonel Elliott approached the London “Circle of Magic” with a proposal to solve the problem once and for all.

In March 1919, the colonel offered a prize of five hundred pounds sterling to anyone who could demonstrate the trick under strict scientific control. Due to the complete absence of fakirs in London itself, an advertisement was published in the Times of India, promising a fabulous reward for any Indian capable of performing the feat with an Indian rope. However, the tempting offer remained unanswered.

The prim gentlemen from the Circle of Magic had to agree with the supporters of the parapsychological version that the Indian miracle rope was the result of a “collective hallucination.” It did not even occur to them that the fakirs were not at all among the idle rich who spent the day in a gentlemen's club reading newspapers published in English. Most fakirs of that time could not even read their native language, much less speak and read English.

However, a few years after the mentioned Circle of Magic event, several Irish and English soldiers serving in India witnessed a performance that almost exactly coincided with the miracles described by Ibn Battuta in the 14th century.

The rope trick is often interpreted as a form of hypnotic suggestion. However, imagine yourself in the place of a hypnotist, traveling around India and giving performances to any assembled audience. It is logical to assume the following. Your audience consists of, say, fifty Hindus from New Delhi (who almost always speak English) and fifty Lamaist Buddhists from Sikkim (few of them speak English), a northern province of India.

Unable to speak either Hindi or Tibetan, you begin your hypnosis session in English, and soon your skill begins to take effect. You cause them to enter a state of deep sleep and "see" a dragon with golden wings. And then you notice that English-speaking Delhiites are contemplating a mythical creature, and fifty Buddhists are sitting opposite you, waiting for the show to start.

The principle is quite clear. As far as we know, hypnotic suggestion has always been accompanied by speech; if the subject does not understand the language in which the suggestion is made, he will not enter a state of hypnosis. Since mass hypnosis is not the answer to the question that interests us, then we should look for another explanation for the trick.

The amazing property of the rope is carefully kept secret and passed from father to son as a family heirloom. At all times, people who knew the secret of the trick could be counted on the fingers of one hand - besides, they say that this trick is very risky and with the slightest mistake you can break your neck. It is believed that by the 1940s, the fakirs who demonstrated this amazing act became too old to perform with the miracle rope. But if this trick is not a myth, then how was it done?

Let us assume that the secret is hidden in the rope itself and that in its straight state it is supported by a mechanism of inserts (metal or wood) or a device hidden in the ground. The main secret is literally hanging in the air.

When this act was first performed - long before the advent of the invisible wire often used by modern illusionists - the elaborate, long, strong cords were black.

Since they were by no means “stealth”, the trick was always demonstrated at dusk, when the black cord became invisible against the darkened sky. In addition, the act should have been performed in a fairly cramped area and under no circumstances in the middle of a vacant lot or other open space.

However, in order to avoid detection when performing in a valley, it was enough to position oneself between two mounds or mounds. The cord was pulled between them so that it was hidden in the foliage of the trees. To be sure to hide him from the inquisitive eyes of skeptical spectators, the fakir began his performance in the gathering dusk and first “warmed up” the crowd with jokes and banal tricks until the sky finally turned black.

Then the assistants brought out the lanterns and placed them on special stands around the magician sitting on the ground, who preceded the main trick with a rather boring and long traditional preface in order to distract the attention of the audience.

Imagine this scene: positioned at a distance of only three to four meters from the audience, the fakir constantly tells something, takes a rope out of a wicker basket, repeatedly bends and twists it, throws it into the air, showing everyone that the rope is completely ordinary.

Usually magicians do not risk attaching a weighting wooden ball under the gaze of spectators and weave it into the end of the rope in advance. And so, continuing to joke, he waves his raised arms and throws her up once again...

The spectators are already tired and do not notice how the fakir, with a deft movement, inserts a metal hook into a special hole in the wooden ball. This hook is tied to a very thin and strong hair cord, invisible against the black sky. The cord rises to a height of approximately eighteen meters, where it is thrown over the main horizontal cord.

The spectators, blinded by the light of the lanterns, see that the rope rises into the air, obeying an unknown magical force. Given the sharp contrast between the lighting of the site and the blackness of the sky, it seems to them that she is floating in the air, rising to a height of 60-90 meters. The audience simply does not see that she is being pulled up by the fakir’s assistants, who are hiding in the shelter.

When the magician orders his assistant - a boy aged eight or nine - to climb the rope, the audience understands well the child who stubbornly refuses to follow into the frightening unknown. Of course, in the end the boy gives in, climbs higher and higher and eventually disappears from view - at a height of about ten meters he finds himself out of reach of the light of the lanterns. Having reached the main cord, he clings to it with a hook and checks the reliability of the rope.

Meanwhile, the fakir unsuccessfully calls the boy - he does not deign to answer him. The enraged magician grabs a huge knife, clenches it with his teeth and rushes upstairs after his assistant. A few moments later, he also disappears into the darkness, and the audience hears only his angry swearing and the boy’s dying screams. Then - oh horror! — body parts of the unfortunate victim begin to fall to the ground.

In fact, these are parts of the body of a large monkey, wrapped in bloody rags similar to the boy’s clothes. They were hidden under the spacious robe of the fakir himself. The last to fall is the severed head, wrapped in a turban. Naturally, spectators show no desire to examine it.

Four assistants rush to the remains of their comrade with loud lamentations. Meanwhile, upstairs, the boy is hiding in the empty, spacious robes of the fakir. The magician goes down with him, and the attention of the audience is focused primarily on the “bloody” blade in his teeth. At the sight of the dismembered body, the fakir “realizes” what happened, begins to “repent” and falls to the ground next to the remains.

The assistants, trying to console the owner, surround them with a tight ring. At this time, the boy slips out, and parts of the monkey’s body again disappear under the magician’s clothes.

The assistants leave, and the audience sees the fakir bending over the pieces of the victim’s body put together. Finally he gets up and says a few magic words, after which he delivers a sharp, sensitive blow, and suddenly, lo and behold! - the boy comes to life.

From the book "The Greatest Mysteries of Anomalous Phenomena"